Sweet Harmony

Sweet Harmony

Copyright ©
February 2014, A.M. Evanston

Authors Note

It seems that whenever I write a new book, I realize how much I have to be thankful for. First and foremost, I owe a very special thank you to my readers everywhere in the world. You guys are amazing! I wish I could hug each and every one of you. Whenever I see a good review or a positive comment about my work, it moves me to tears. I hope that you will enjoy
Sweet Harmony.
So far, it's my favorite book that I've written. It is by far the longest as well.

I also owe a special thank you to Sylvia Knight. Editors are such a treasure, especially mine. I'm glad she's
by my side during my writing journey.

Sweet Harmony

By A.M. Evanston

Chapter One

Sixteen-year-old Annamarie Chadwick stared out the window of the airplane
. The city of New York City was below. She'd traveled through New York when heading to Europe with her dad, but she'd never stayed long. Now she wouldn't have much choice but to explore. She swallowed and looked at the brochure in her lap. It was for the Harmony International Academy of Music, a school intended for rich musical prodigies. She was no such musical prodigy. Her dad was a famous concert pianist and her mom was the world renowned cellist Yuki Neko. Her parents had bought her way into the school. Unfortunately, she didn't have the musical talent gene. Her little brother, Yuri, was the one endowed with melodious gifts.
I hope I'm going to survive at this school,
she thought.
I'm better at hitting people with my flute than playing it.

She ran a hand through her dark hair just as the plane circled the landing space and descended. She noticed that the middle-aged woman next to her was digging her nails into the arm rests as if she'd be able to hold herself in-place if the aircraft actually collapsed. Fortunately, Annamarie had flown so much that she wasn't frightened of air travel.

"
This is a normal landing. I've been in loads of planes and they've never crashed," she assured the woman next to her. She didn't make a habit of talking to strangers, but the woman looked like she needed the comfort.

The
woman grunted as the plane hit the ground with a thud. The wheels squealed as the breaks were applied.

Annamarie
tightened her grip on her purple leather handbag, even though she knew she would have a little while to wait before the other people grabbed their carry-on baggage and left the plane. She tucked the brochure into her bag. If only her dad would have let her go to public school instead of trying to force her to learn how to play an instrument properly. Her real dream was to master karate and open her own dojo. Her brother almost gave himself an aneurism from laughing so hard whenever she brought up her true aspiration.

Some time passed
, but soon the people in front of her grabbed their bags from the overhead compartment. She stepped into the aisle. The little old lady a seat across from her looked her way with obvious concern.

"You traveling by yourself, sweetheart?"
the old woman asked. "Aren't you a little young?"

She forced a smile on her face. "
I'm fine."

The woman didn't
look so sure. Annamarie didn't have the heart to tell her that she'd been taking airplanes by herself since she was ten years old. It was just the byproduct of having two famous parents with conflicting schedules. The lady thankfully left her alone after that. She was lucky she didn't have to explain her complicated life story to her.

After she'd made it out of the plane, she collected her luggage and hailed a taxi. She gave the taxi driver—a man with crooked teeth and a bushy mustache—the address and
settled down. Her nerves built. She was more scared of going to the academy than boarding an airplane alone or taking a taxi. After being homeschooled for so long, she wasn't sure she was ready for the adventure she was being forced into.

The driv
e was way too short. One second she was parked in front of the airport, the next the taxi driver pulled up the cobblestone driveway of a massive building with grey walls and stain glass windows. She thought the academy looked more like a church than a school. It reminded her of the Saint-Denis Basilica just outside of Paris.
Wow,
she thought, watching a flock of girls file by in knee-length plaid skirts and white shirts. Soon she'd be one of them. She was so busy gawking she forgot she was still in a taxi cab. The driver cleared his throat and she dug out her wallet.

"I'm so sorry." She pulled out her cab fare and a generous tip. "Thanks so much."

"Good lucky, little lady," the cab driver said.

Her face flushed. She knew he'd said "little lady" in a nice way, but since sh
e was under five feet tall and as boney as a starved rat, she hated being called
little
in any way. 

"Thanks." She got out of the cab, hauling her suitcase with her.

After the taxi drove away, she stared off into the distance before taking a deep breath. It was strange how she could be attacked by a man three times her size in karate class without feeling a smidgeon of fear, but now she was hyperventilating because of a building.
Get a grip,
she told herself. She was many things—flighty, air-headed, and too quick to anger—but she was not a wimp. The only thing that normally made her this scared was deep water. Maybe that's why she hated her circumstances so much. It was like she was in a swimming pool and was sucking down H20. But she had to face this. She was going to march into the building and make her place at this school. She'd moved so many times before. Sure, before this her parents had always been with her, but she was almost an adult. This experience was going to be good for her. She might even have the freedom to take karate lessons in the afternoons without having to endure her dad's disappointed sighs and her mom's eye rolls. With this thought in mind, she dragged her suitcase up the steps and went inside the academy. She paused in the hall to look around. The office had to be somewhere, right?

Just as she decided to
go to the left, she saw two girls marching toward her. One of them was staring in her direction with a look of anger on her face. Annamarie had the sinking feeling the girl was mad at her.
Don't be silly. She can't be angry with you. She doesn't even know you.
Since the girls were heading her way, she plastered a friendly grin on her face, even though it was more in her nature to scowl back.

"What do you think you'r
e doing?" the blonde girl asked with shocking malice.

"Ugh…" She scratched her head. Okay, no way was this friendly behavior from Miss Blondie. "I'm looking for the office. Do you happen to know where—"

"No, I mean, what do you think you're doing, standing on my scarf?" the girl snapped. "Don't you look before you stand somewhere?"

She looked down and sure enough there was a lacy scarf right under her sneak
er.

"Oops." She jumped off
the scarf and picked it up. At least it didn't seem to be dirty. "I'm sorry. I didn't see it."

The girl snatched
the scarf away from her. "I can't believe this. Do you know where I got this scarf? In Italy. You ruined it."

"I'm sure if you throw it in the wash, it'll be fine." She meant to be encouraging, but the girl looked ready to
gouge out her eyes with her perfectly manicured fingernails.

"You don't wash a scarf like this."

"How much did it cost?" She dug in her wallet and pulled out five dollars. "This should cover it, right?"

"Five dollars?" The girl's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to be funny?"

Suddenly, she was nervous. She wasn't used to other girls looking at her like hungry lionesses…Well, except for her mom.

"Um, no." She shrugged.

"I think she's serious, Bridget," the blonde girl's friend said, giggling.

The girl
glared at her just as a formal looking woman in a business suit marched toward them. The woman's hair was in a bun and her eyes were green with the slightest hint of yellow. Even at first sight, Annabelle could tell this was the sort of woman who wasn't to be trifled with.

"
Ms. Winters, Ms. Baum, what are you doing outside of class?" The woman glared at the pair of girls.

"Nothing." Bridget dusted the scarf off. "Sorry, Mrs. Carmichael."

"Very well." The woman waved them away. "And who are you, young lady? This is a closed campus. We don't allow visitors here."

She looked down at herself and
knew why Mrs. Carmichael didn't see her as a student-to-be. She wore a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy ponytail and she wore no makeup. Why would she bother to cover her face with concealer if she was just going to sweat it off in karate class anyway? As she straightened her sweater, she grimaced at the woman staring her down.

"My name is Annabelle Chadwick." She stuck out her hand to shake Mrs. Carmichael's. "I'm new to school here.
My dad said you were expecting me."

"You're the daughter of Francis Chadwick and Yuki Neko?" If Mrs. Carmichael's eyebrows rose any higher, they'd disappear into her hairline.

"I'm afraid so." Her parents had an awful habit of making her sound like a presentable and well-groomed young lady to other adults.

"I
see." Mrs. Carmichael wrinkled her nose like she smelled something awful. "Well, let's come to the office. I'll get you your class schedule and your dorm room number."

"Okey dokey." She nodded, giving her two thumbs up.

"What?" Mrs. Carmichael stared.

"I just meant, okay." She swallowed.

"The correct way to answer me is 'Yes, Mrs. Carmichael' or 'Yes, Ma'am,'" Mrs. Carmichael said. "I don't know what your parents have been teaching you, but this is a musical school for
refined
ladies and gentlemen. You must speak eloquently during your time at the academy."

"Um, ok
a—I mean, yes, ma'am," she said quickly.

"That's much better." Mrs. Carmichael nodded, her
mouth still thin. "Come with me."

Annamarie
sighed and followed Mrs. Carmichael into a small office. All of the secretaries looked at her like she'd been beamed down from an UFO. Hadn't anybody in this school seen a pair of department store jeans before? Luckily, Mrs. Carmichael pulled her into a room in the back. She already had a stack of papers and uniforms sitting on her desk.

"These are your uniforms." Mrs. Carmichael pointed at the clothes. "
The only time you're not required to wear them is after class and on weekends. If you come to class without your uniform, you will receive a week's worth of detention."

Annabelle picked up the flimsy skirt. "What do we wear during winter?"

"That." Mrs. Carmichael pointed at the skirt.

"But we'll be cold, won't we?" Annabelle didn't eve
n wear skirts during the summer if she could help it.

"You
'll be inside most of the time." Mrs. Carmichael sighed like she was dealing with a particularly slow child.

"Okay." She nodded.

Mrs. Carmichael glared at her again. It took her a moment to realize her mistake.

"I mean
, yes, ma'am," she said.

"Good." Mrs. Carmichael showed her a stack of papers. "
Meals are served in the dining hall at seven a.m., twelve p.m., and six p.m. You will have class from eight until three."

She looked at the top paper and saw it was her schedule. She had English, math, and gym, but besides that, her classes were all
about music. She even had lessons on music theory.
What the heck is music theory?
She scratched the back of her neck. Things were a lot simpler when she studied at home in London.

"Your
dorm room is number 203. It's a private room, as requested by your parents. Unfortunately, since you're transferring in the middle of the year, you'll be in a room with a broken lock. I'll try to have somebody fix it over the next couple of weeks." Mrs. Carmichael crossed her arms. "There's a map among the papers I just gave you, so you should have no trouble locating the dormitory."

"You mean you're not going to
bring me to the dorm yourself?" She was sure she could figure out the building, but she was surprised somebody wasn't going to show her around. Maybe she was a little spoiled after all.

"I don't coddle my students." Mrs. Carmichael took a seat behind her desk. "Unless you have any
questions, that will be all."

"All right." She took a step back. "Thanks, I guess."

As if she'd never been there at all, Mrs. Carmichael turned on her computer and started to type.
I'm not going to fit in at this school, am I?
She bit her bottom lip and left the office. Now she just had to find her room.

She pulled out her map and discovered the girls' dorm was in a separate building in the back. Quickly, she left the school and hustled to a large building. Students in uniforms scurried past. It could have just been her imagination, but everybody looked prettier here. Girls had shiny hair, perfect figures, and beautiful, identical faces. The boys, who wore black slacks and red ties, were thin and tall with their hair slicked back. It was almost boring looking at them. She messed up her bangs to make them sloppy, just so she didn't look like the clones. She went to the dormitory and found her room on the second floor. She opened the door and stepped inside.

A single princess bed was tucked against the wall. A window
overlooked the grounds. A homework desk was positioned on the alternate wall. Maybe she was being rude about the whole thing, but there was something boring about this room just like the rest of the students. She placed her suitcase on the bed next to her uniforms and let out a sigh of remorse.